Darth Vader And The Other Eight Assassins
by ordinaryguy2
Summary: A New story by Carycomic! A STAR WARS Legends pastiche loosely based on the 2013 Dark Horse story arc entitled "Darth Vader And The Ninth Assassin" (and inspired by the now cult-classic movie SMOKIN' ACES).
1. Chapter 1

**Darth Vader And The Other Eight Assassins  
** by Carycomic.

A STAR WARS Legends pastiche loosely based on the 2013 Dark Horse story arc entitled "Darth Vader And The Ninth Assassin" (and inspired by the now cult-classic movie SMOKIN' ACES). Almost needless to say, I don't profit from this in any way/shape/form.

 **Summary:** the title says it all.

 **Chapter 1.**

A LONG TIME AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY. . .

The chief bodyguard, a black human mercenary from Naboo, looked at his employer.

"Are you sure this is a wise course of action, sir?"

The much older man (whose hair and moustache were twice as white as his skin) nodded, wearily.

"My son must be avenged. And, working together or separately, one of them is _bound_ to get close enough to Vader to rid this galaxy of him, forever!"

* * * * *

 **CORUSCANT (a.k.a. Imperial City)  
18 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)  
**  
Bleedo quietly followed his quarry through the shadows. His stealth enhanced by the traditional stalker armor of the Tetsu Clan.

He had first learned of the contract on Vader's life through the same being who had taught him his accented Basic: Blotto. A bail-bonding Toydarian who normally moonlighted as a "free-lance labor recruiter" for the Slaver Syndicate. On certain occasions, however, the Toydarian liked to triple his income by secretly sub-contracting work for House Paramexor of the Bounty Hunters' Guild. The branch that specialized in escaped murderers!

And, when it came to the ambitious young Rodian, he knew just which emotional buttons to push.

"You do this job, successfully? And maybe even House Salaktori come begging you to join them!"

Since then, Blotto had contacted Bleedo, only once. To warn him about the presence of certain would-be rivals on Coruscant. One of them, a thrill-seeking Wroonian, usually worked for House Neuvalis. And his success rate was such that never once had the latter have to live up to their motto: "Double your credits back if contract not fulfilled within a year."

Like most of his people, Justin Papanoida had an innate fondness for gambling and other adrenaline rushes. But, every good gambler knew it was time to start hedging one's bets when the chances for victory started to slim down. And the person he was on his way to meet was the one person in the entire _galaxy_ who might be able to help him win this particular gamble.

A dehorned Koorivar named Passel Atrubble.

Atrubble had served in the Clone Wars as a military policeman with the Corporate Alliance Fusiliers. One of the few military units, on the Separatist side, that had been composed entirely of organic soldiers. Since the Mustafar Massacre, however, he had been traveling the galaxy as a member of that band of Jedi-killing mercenaries called "the Crimson Novas." For Passel had amputated his own cranial horn as part of a vow to kill the man responsible for that massacre: Darth Vader! And what better way could there be, to ultimately accomplish that goal, than by gaining practical experience through the killing of other Force users?

Such as fugitive Jedi Knights.

Meanwhile, two other bounty hunters were having a clandestine rendezvous of their own. One of them- -surprisingly enough- -was a medical droid! 21-B-19; who had been stolen right off the assembly line (and reprogrammed to act like a Malkite Poisoner) by Wurrrdafookwee. A one-eyed Wookiee graduate of the Skine Bounty Hunter College.

This naturally aroused the curiosity of the Heinsnake cultist waiting for them. Because, when they had first met, the Wookiee had two good eyes!

"What happened to you?" he bluntly asked.

"Roowwwwwwwwwwwr! Rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr!"

The droid instantly translated: "He says he sacrificed his left eye to a vornskr in order that we could uphold our end of the bargain. It is now time to uphold yours. . .before we hand over the merchandise."

The cultist nodded and lifted a datapad with a built-in holoemitter. 21-B-19 had an exact duplicate of that device and activated it at the same time as the other one. Consequently, a pair of three-dimensional images appeared in mid-air. Each one bearing an eight-digit set of numbers. The hologram above the cultist's datapad began to show those numbers decreasing with eye-blurring speed. While the numbers above the droid's datapad simultaneously increased!

Finally, the numbers stopped changing, altogether.

"Transmission complete, sir," remarked the droid: "Data flow genuine."

Wurrrdafookwee nodded and handed over the relatively small box he had been carrying in his left hand. The droid grabbed it with his right and relayed it to the cultist, who smilingly nodded his thanks. Whereupon, the Wookiee uttered a second round of barks and snarls that sounded slightly more interrogative than the first.

"Do you wish us to run you through the process once more?" 21-B-19 now translated.

The cultist shook his head: "That will not be necessary. I assure you that the creature's life-support system will be linked to the timer in the proper sequence. And, when my people's plans come to fruition, in two weeks time, your names will be foremost in our prayers of gratitude!"

The droid translated his owner's barked reply: "Prayers are equally unnecessary. Being able to afford a state-of-the-art prosthetic optic has been thanks enough."

Following which, the decidedly odd couple melted back into the shadows with surprisingly silent ease.

"Begging your pardon, sir. But, what do we do, now?"

"Rowwwwwwwwr! Rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr!"

"Yes, sir, I quite agree. Laying low for the day _is_ very prudent! But, what about the others?"

The ensuing barks and snarls were instantly translated by his cranial CPU as:

"They're not stupid enough to try anything in broad daylight. Our mutual target is therefore safe. . .for the next twenty-four hours, at least."

* * * * *

"The others" that 21-B-19 had been referring to were a Mon Cal/Quarren duo, from Dac, who were occasionally arch-rivals of his owner!

Skon Jeely, the Quarren, came from a long line of spear-fishing Deep Hunters. So, he was not quite as used to spacefaring as his Mon Calamari partner, Kroob Tuort. The latter was an ex-Sector Ranger who was now mentoring the Quarren, only because it was a mandatory custom of all bounty hunters employed by the Ragnar Syndicate.

"It would be so easy," muttered Skon, half-aloud, as he peered through the sniperscope of his custom-modified speargun: "One less bounty potentially lost to that walking carpet."

"And have that droid stalking us, for the rest of our days, through some pre-programmed notion of a life-debt?!" Kroob exclaimed: "Uh-uh! We stick with the plan. Hole up for the day; scout out the palace, tonight."

"I got a better idea," replied a new (and decidedly female) voice.

Kroob immediately went for his blaster. Yet, he had not even half-drawn it out, before the business end of a K'ahren sword went straight through his chest and out his back!

At the same time, the sword's wielder spun about, one hundred eighty degrees, counter-clockwise. As she did so, she pressed the firing stud on a Stokli spray stick in her left hand. The stream of mist that issued forth, in an ever-widening cloud, quickly solidified into a net-like configuration of electrochemical adhesive! With Skon unable to dodge out of its way, in time.

Consequently, when he fell to the ground, everywhere there was exposed skin, the strands of the net completed a neuro-electric circuit. Thereby literally shocking him into paralysis. That, in turn, meant he could only stare in helpless horror. . .

. . .as the severed head of his partner dropped to the ground in front of him.

"Two down," a black human female pointedly quipped: "Half a dozen to go."

 **To be continued?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

 **CORUSCANT (18 BBY)**

Officially, the warehouse belonged to Xizor Transport Systems. And, officially, it had been demolished five years earlier due to a stone mite infestation! In reality, however, it was still intact; used strictly for the storage of extra-legal cargoes. Right now, though, it was in-between such " _consignments_." Which is why Justin Papanoida had chosen to meet there with Passel Atrubble.

"You're early," the latter now declared.

"In point of fact," said the former: ". . .I arrived here an _hour_ ahead of you! So I could insure that no one was arranging an ambush for me."

The self-dehorned Koorivar looked at the green-skinned Wroonian with puzzlement.

"Couldn't that cyborg headband of yours have pre-calculated the chances for or against the likelihood of a set-up?"

"Yes. But, even _'one-in-a-million_ ' is still a greater number than zero. And that's the same number of ambushes I prefer to walk into: _zero_!"

"Not everybody get what they want," remarked a new voice from seemingly out of thin air.

Atrubble immediately drew his DL-18 blaster. Only to drop it to the floor as his throat was encircled by the business end of a Rodian cryo-whip! Two seconds later, he was on his knees. His skin turning bluish-white from the intense cold being transmitted through the metallic segments of the whip. Simultaneously, the holographic cloaking program within Bleedo's stalker armor deactivated, causing the ambitious young Rodian to materialize!

Papanoida immediately drew his Merr-Sonn Q4 hold-out blaster (with filed down sights). Yet, Bleedo had anticipated that, and stretched out his left arm. Firing, from the wrist-mounted mouth of a rectangular tube, eleven Rodian throwing knives (with microelectronic repulsorlift motors). He had also anticipated that the Wroonian would have no difficulty destroying the first ten, at short range, with the Q4. Ten shots being the maximum capacity of that particular hand weapon! The eleventh one, he might be able to duck under. But, its repulsorlift micro-motor would cause it to make an aerial U-turn before embedding itself in the nearest wall. Insuring, at least, a second chance of striking its intended target.

What Bleedo had not anticipated, however, was Papanoida having a second Q4 hold-out blaster on the right side of a cross-draw double holster rig. Consequently, the Wroonian still had nine shots left with which to take out Bleedo! But, the Tetsu Clansman was by no means defenseless. Dropping his left hand to a golden-colored belt buckle, he activated a personal deflector shield.

Thereby deflecting the next four blaster bolts, from the second Q4, just in time.

Of course, in activating the deflector shield, Bleedo had been forced to drop his cryo-whip to the floor of the warehouse. But, he was not unarmed for long. Because, while his left hand was hitting the "off" switch, his right hand was drawing a DX-2 disruptor pistol!

"Me soon going to have two less rivals for Vader's bounty," he chortled in sadistic glee.

As if to dispute the accuracy of that statement, however, a red bolt of energy came arcing diagonally downwards from one of the overhead rafters. Thereby striking the snubnose disruptor just as Bleedo was pulling its trigger! Consequently, there was a massive backlash of energy that was absorbed (for the most part) by the armored Rodian. Slowly disintegrating him (stalker armor and all) from the molecular level upward!

When Bleedo had vanished entirely, 21-B-19 emerged from the shadows and translated what his owner was now barking and snarling as he descended from the rafters, courtesy of a Nabooian ascension gun on "reverse."

"My owner says: 'Make that...one.' "

Justin Papanoida nodded, as the medical droid examined Passel Atrubble. Whereupon, the latter was injected with something, contained within a hypodermic needle that came out of the medical droid's right wrist assembly!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the Koorivar screamed at the top of his lungs, as the needle's point entered his left posterior cheek.

"My apologies, sir," replied the droid: "That was simply an injection of a mild stimulant. Saurin brandy, from Durkteel to be exact! You will regain whatever passes for your normal composure as soon as you have thawed out a bit more."

Atrubble looked at this odd couple, who had just saved his life, and nodded in understanding. He then (raspingly) remarked that he now owed the Wookiee a great life-debt! A few seconds later, however, came this reply:

"ROWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWR! Rowr-rowr!"

"My owner says you owe him nothing. As he owed something else, of much greater value, to Bleedo of the Tetsu Clan. Namely; retribution for all the Wookiees the latter put on ice...and sold to the Slaver Syndicate."

"Couldn't have said it better, myself," a third (and decidedly female) voice opined.

Whereupon, Nashira of House Renliss emerged from the shadows, too.

The Wookiee and the Wroonian immediately leveled their weapons at her ample chest.

"Rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr?"

"My owner demands to know who you are and what you are doing here?" 21-B-19 swiftly translated.

"Nashira of House Renliss. Last minute-replacement for the Ragnar duo."

To emphasize her point, she deposited (with demonstrative slowness) a certain Bryar gun and a certain speargun on to the warehouse floor. Whereupon the medical droid- -after a brief nod of Wurrda's head- - went over to them and picked them up.

"My optics detect faint traces of reddish-brown on the barrels of these weapons. And my olfactory receptor is likewise detecting airborne particles of hemoglobin containing both Quarren and Mon Calamari DNA. Suggesting a 98.76% chance that the former owners of these weapons are biologically defunct."

"Very good, mecha-man," Nashira replied with a grin. "And that ought to prove to the rest of you that, when it comes to killing Darth Vader, I'm a much better lifeguard for your little pool of resources than those two could've ever been."

"That, my dear," countered Papanoida: ". . .remains to be more solidly evinced. However, I see no other way for her to do so than by being allowed to join our forces. What say the rest of you?"

The Korrivar, the Wookiee, and 21-B-19 looked at each other, before looking back at the Wroonian, and nodding as one.

 **tbc**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.  
**

The plan they agreed upon was to spend the rest of that day within the warehouse. Then, after planetary sunset, they would go out to reconnoiter the Imperial palace. Furthermore, they would each stand guard in shifts. With 21-B-19 naturally going first because he was a droid. But, sleep was slow in coming to Passel Atrubble. So, he turned to Nashira and asked her (point blank):

"Why, exactly, did you kill Jeely and Tuort? The contract promised _equal_ shares for all those who contributed to successfully killing Vader. The only non-negotiable condition being that. . ."

". . .his severed head is brought as proof of completion," Nashira finished quoting for him. "Well, let me put it this way for you. You recruited those two because of the way they took out Phylus Mon. Correct?"

Atrubble nodded. The aforementioned Chevin slave trader had been a documented Force-sensitive! So, it had seemed only logical to recruit his killers for an attempt on the life of Darth Vader.

"Well, the truth is," Nashira continued ". . .they had more than a little help from _me_ on that contract! And I agreed to let them take full credit for it in exchange for half the reward. Only trouble is, they _reneged_ on their end. So, in between all my subsequent hunts, I've kept tabs on them. And, when I learned why they were coming to Coruscant…"

She shrugged, as if to say that she had already explained that part. She then asked the Koorivar a question of her own. "Why'd you cut off your cranial horn? Are the rumors true? Do you really plan to. . .?"

Atrubble nodded. "Once, through each eye. After that? I'll use my share of the bounty to get my horn surgically re-attached. As the Mustafar Massacre will finally have been avenged!"

"What about you, Pappie?" Nashira now asked the Wroonian: "You in this just for the creds? Or, did bringin' them all back alive finally get too dull?"

Justin Papanoida's only response was to arch his right eyebrow. Making it difficult to determine whether that indicated her half-wild guess had been dead on target. Or, that he was just too tired and bemused to dignify her questioning as anything more than rhetorical.

"Probably a little of both," she finally (and wisely) decided before nodding off to sleep.

* * * * *

With the exception of the four humanoids periodically awakening each other, for their respective stints at guard duty, the rest of that day passed uneventfully. With the coming of planetary nightfall, however, everything changed.

Papanoida- -the last one to stand guard- -was trying to keep his mind from growing bored by multi-tasking. This included using his Biotech-6 cyborg headband to scan both the HoloNet News and the Imperial City Police band. And, as a result of the latter, he heard something that immediately made him start chanting: "Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!"

The other three humanoids sprang to their feet. Their weapons already drawn, before the first demands of inquiry had even entered their minds (let alone, passed from their lips)! But, Papanoida saved them even that much trouble.

"Darth Vader is no longer at the palace. He's on route to the spaceport, even as we speak!"

"What?!" exclaimed Nashira. "Why?"

"To meet some visiting dignitary from the Nautolan mining colony on Leritor."

Wurrrda the Wookiee growled something which 21-B-19 instantly translated.

"My owner wishes to know how large a retinue accompanies the Sith Lord?"

"At least one platoon of stormtroopers for an honor guard. The Nautolan travels only with his protocol droid. . .plus one bodyguard. A human merc from Ragith 3!"

This gave the other four momentary pause; as Ragithian Humans were close to ten feet tall! The result of genetic engineering, by their colonist ancestors, to cope with the intense gravity of that world. Nashira then looked at Passel Atrubble.

"This is your show. How do you want to proceed?"

"For now?" replied the Koorivar: "We just beat them to the spaceport. "Papanoida; think you can interface with that protocol droid, undetected? Give us some more specific intel?"

The Wroonian's grin was absolutely shameless: "Slice of pastry."

"Then, let's go!"

Thirty minutes later, a Lambda-class shuttlecraft landed at the Imperial City Spaceport. Debarking from the passenger compartment, Darth Vader was greeted, at the bottom, by a golden-yellow protocol droid who introduced itself as N-3PO.

"My master, Lord Garn," it added (pointing to the elegantly robed Nautolan to its right): ". . .thanks you for this gracious welcome. And, he hopes he will not need to impose on the Emperor's hospitality for too long."

"Please inform His Lordship," replied Vader: ". . .that there is no imposition. For we, too, wish a speedy end to the Sauvax insurgency. Indeed; we might have already accomplished the latter, if we had _more_ stormtroopers the size of your bodyguard."

The Ragithian Human just bowed in response. Prompting the Nautolan noble to grin before giving a more sonorous reply (which N-3PO instantly translated).

"Lord Garn says that is higher praise than you know. As he owes at least _half_ of his current longevity to the skills of Master Snoke."

 **tbc**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

 **IMPERIAL CITY SPACEPORT,**

 **FIRE & RESCUE STATION #1**

 **(15 MINUTES EARLIER)**

The two paramedics waited for the mechanic to join them after he had finished his routine maintenance of the Trast Heavy Transports air ambulance. And, once he had down at the table, in between them. the more senior-ranking paramedic began dealing out the sabacc cards. It was uncharacteristically quiet for this particular shift. But, that was only because everyone else had unexpectedly been given a day off with pay! Something to do with some important state visit occurring nearby. But, unfortunately for this trio, their shift supervisor had been a stickler for the rules. Telling the representative from the Imperial Security Bureau (firmly-yet-politely, of course) that a mandatory minimum of three personnel had to be on duty in the station house at all times. So, they became the lucky ones who "volunteered" to remain behind!

All his frustration vanished, however, when he spotted the beautiful dark-skinned woman who came walking into the station. A doctor, judging by the white smock she was wearing and the green droid of the 21-B series accompanying her.

"May I help you, Miss. . .?"

"Doctor! Doctor Nashira. And, the answer is ' _yes_ '. I need to borrow your ambulance for a little bit.

The three men chuckled, accordingly, before the senior paramedic replied (with a semi-disappointed grin):

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But, that's not possible! All air traffic around this area, for five square miles, has been either grounded or re-routed, until further notice. By order of the ISB."

"I see," muttered Nashira. "In that case; 21-B-19?"

Whereupon, the erstwhile medical droid triggered the release of a Prax 7 dart pistol from a secret compartment in his left arm. Firing one tranquilizer dart a piece into the two startled paramedics! While Nashira whipped out her Stokhli spray stick, once more; ensnaring the mechanic in its electrochemical mesh! She then finished the job by walking over to where the latter had collapsed and kicked him in the head with her insulated boot.

Upon confirming that all three men were unconscious, she whipped out a comm-link from the left-hand pocket of the smock.

"We're in. How does it look?"

"We're ready to go when you are," replied Passel Atrubble.

"You sure you can handle the Nautolan's bodyguard?"

"With Papanoida's help, yes. If nothing else, Snoke will finally learn a long-overdue lesson about stealing bounties from the Crimson Novas!"

Nashira frowned. "Our _only_ target of interest is Vader! Save the score-settling for afterward."

"Don't worry," the Koorivar reassured her. "I will."

Passel Atrubble shut off his comm-link before withdrawing his amputated cranial horn and smiling at it.

"Ten more minutes, old friend. And, then, the Mustafar Massacre will be avenged."

Ten minutes later, as Captain Snoke bowed (in courteous response to Darth Vader's somewhat surprising compliment), a siren began blaring. So, naturally, everyone in attendance instinctively looked in the direction from where that sound had originated! What they saw was an air ambulance rapidly approaching the shuttle craft landing pad. And, just as instinctively, the storm trooper honor guard assumed defensive fire positions. Aiming all their weapons at the repulsorlift medical vehicle.

As a result, no one saw the three intruders that flew in from the opposite direction.

Two of those figures were riding swoops. That is, illegally modified airspeeder bikes popular with street gangs on the Outer Rim planets. But, in this case, these two particular swoops had been slave-circuited to Justin Papanoida's cyborg headband. Allowing him to remote-control them virtually by thought! This, in turn, allowed Atrubble to use both hands in wielding his G-71 grenade launcher.

"Foop! Foop! Foop! Foop!"

Three of the G-20 glop grenades that he subsequently launched went sailing in the direction of the visiting Lord Garn and his small entourage. Immobilizing them in a gelatinous mass that rendered even Captain Snoke unable to draw his T-6 Thunderer, no matter how much of his superhuman strength he exerted! The fourth grenade, however, never reached its target.

Darth Vader merely evaded it by leaping straight upward; somersaulting at the arc of that leap, and then landing on the roof of the Imperial shuttle.

This, in turn, made him an irresistible target for Wurrrdafookwee. The one-eyed Wookiee had already devastated half the honor guard by shooting them down, from above and behind, with the aid of his bowcaster and a modifiedYinchorri flitter pack! But, the Sith Lord's defensive actions caught his attention. So, Wurrrda re-directed his flight path, and line of fire, accordingly. Yet, for every explosive quarrel that he fired in the Sith Lord's direction, Vader's lightsaber was just as quick to deflect them into the ground, to the left and right of the landing pad. All, that is, except the last two. Those he batted upwards toward the engines of the rapidly approaching swoops!

Consequently, they crashed to the ground, forcing their riders to jump off at the next-to-last second. Following which, they landed in somersaults that were not entirely painless.

The surviving storm troopers among the honor guard immediately trained their weapons on the Koorivar and the Wroonian. Unfortunately, for them, this distracted from the still-oncoming air ambulance! Nashira, having accomplished the initial distraction, had turned off the no-longer needed sire. Consequently, she was running silently when she fatally bowled over the aforementioned storm troopers. . .

. . .before ramming the vehicle into the Lambda-class shuttle's front landing gear.

The ensuing vibration from that crash was strong enough to unbalance Darth Vader. Making him fall to the ground, as well! This, in turn, allowed Papanoida to unsling a SoroSuub Firelance blaster carbine from his right shoulder and fire off a heavy stun blast. Giving Atrubble the perfect opportunity to whip out his cranial horn, hold it in his right hand like a vibro-dagger, and then run towards the seemingly helpless Sith Lord.

"Look at me well, Vader," gloated the self-dehorned Koorivar. "I will be the last thing you ever see... before I gouge out your eyes."

 **tbc**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

* * * * *

Yet, in venting that long pent-up frustration, Passel Atrubble had unintentionally allowed the Sith Lord to regain just enough of a second wind that he could raise his own right hand. Thereby allowing him to use the Darkside of the Force to telekinetically stop the downward thrust of the amputated cranial horn!

"Some. . .one. . .help!" grunted Atrubble as he struggled (in vain) to continue the horn's descent.

It was Nashira who answered that plea.

Having used her own training in the Force to cushion herself from most of the crash-related impact, she was understandably a little dazed immediately afterward. So, 21-B-19 used an Affytechan leaf as an organic smelling salt; holding it under her nose until she was fully back to her senses!* She brusquely thanked him, then tried to exit through the driver's side cockpit hatch. Unfortunately, it had become immovably jammed by the crash. So, she unfastened her seat belt and exited through the stretcher-loading double doors at the rear of the ambulance. Running as fast as she was capable towards the strange stalemate. Her Ka'hren short sword already drawn. . .

. . .in preparation for beheading Vader.

The Sith Lord, seeing this, telekinetically flung Atrubble right at Nashira! Of course, he was not surprised at her simply leaping over the on-coming Koorivar. He had just wanted enough breathing room to spring back on to his feet. Justin Papanoida, however, had anticipated this eventuality. Which is why he now fired off a cylindrical cryoban grenade from the Locris under-barrel grenade launcher attached to his Firelance! Unfortunately, as near-soundless as the discharge report was, Vader still detected that grenade headed straight toward him. He therefore re-directed it. . .

. . .toward the massive pile of glop holding Captain Snoke prisoner.

* * * * *

Consequently, the grenade lodged itself within the glop, headfirst. And, seconds later, the cryoban gas it emitted froze every single inch of that glop into a crystalline mass brittle enough to shatter with one sustained heave of Snoke's Ragithian muscles! Whereupon, the latter emerged with the angriest, most primeval scream of rage that Papanoida and Atrubble had ever heard from a non-Wookiee. But, the Wroonian did not let that distract him from loading another cryoban grenade into the Firelance's Locris attachment.

The giant Ragithian did not fail to notice this, however, and immediately fired his T-6 Thunderer at Papanoida. Hitting the green-skinned bounty hunter square in the chest! Snoke then turned around to look at Lord Garn. And, the second he saw the Nautolan noble starting to lose color in his cranial tendrils, he fired his heavy blaster pistol three more times. Only, this time, point blank into the ice. So as to loosen up enough of it that he could take apart chunks of it with his bare hands. When that had been accomplished, he picked up Lord Garn in his arms like a newborn baby. Following which, he quickly looked in all directions.

He spotted the crashed air ambulance on the third try. . .and immediately started running toward it.

Meanwhile, Darth Vader was having some trouble of his own. Nashira's sword turned out to be made of cortosis ore. The one metal in the Galaxy totally impervious to the energies of a lightsaber! So, when the latter was veritably batted out of his hands when he tried to slice through the former, the still weakened Sith Lord uncharacteristically found himself on the defensive. Having to enhance his agility with the Force in order to evade every attempt to disembowel his stomach or to slice through his neck.

"The Force is strong with you, little one," Vader said during one brief lull: "A person with your skills should be working for the Emperor."

"Sorry," she replied (with a feral grin): "My matukai mentor wouldn't approve of me working for his murderers. Now, Wurrrda!"

The Sith Lord turned. . .just in time to have the one-eyed Wookiee ram into him, feet-first. Whereupon, the latter discarded his bowcaster for a pair of rykk blades similar to those used on his homeworld. Only these were likewise made of cortosis ore. And Wurrrda now tried to lodge both of them deep inside the left and right sides of Vader's neck, simultaneously! Once again, however, the Sith Lord was able to summon enough of the Force to telekinetically fling the Wookiee backwards.

Only, this time, straight towards Passel Atrubble.

The Koorivar bounty hunter had been trying to draw a bead on the Sith Lord's back with his DL-18. Yet, once again, he was so blinded with vengeful rage that he did not notice the fur-covered missile flying towards him until it was too late to avoid being knocked out on impact. And, even worse than that? Wurrrda dropped his rykk blades, in the process!

Thereby allowing Vader to telekinetically draw them into his waiting gauntlets.

"Now, little one," the Sith Lord all but chortled: "Let us resume this fight on a more... equal basis."

 **tbc**

 ***GLOSSARY**

 **Affytechan:** _sentient plant-based life forms that emit a powerful ammonia smell._

 **Rykk blade:** _also known as "kerarthorr," these kama-like weapons are unique to the Wookiee homeworld of Kashyyyk. Crucial for survival back in more technologically primitive times, the Wookiees now use them only for certain kinds of ritual combat._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.  
**

 **SIX MONTHS EARLIER  
**  
She had tracked him down to Ord Inary. A terraformed asteroid in the Ikon system of the Majoor Sector. His name was Ormoj. And, he had been one of two Cragmoloid slaves that she (along with the double-crossing Kroob Tuort and Skon Jeely) had helped to liberate from Phylus Mon's psychic bondage! Now, however, he was an anti-Imperialist privateer affiliated with the Blazing Chain confederation of space pirates. His crew consisting entirely of Esoomians: short-tempered offshoot of the quasi-pachydermoid Zexx, whom he frequently had to use his own rudimentary Force ability to keep under control.

"How are you doing, Ormoj?"

"Nashira!" the elephantine alien almost trumpeted with delight. "You're here earlier than expected."

"There's no such thing as ' _too soon_ ' when it comes to those two. My condolences, by the way, on Beryl Arranda. Who did it? Aurra Sing?"

The Cragmoloid slowly nodded, adding. "She had a little help, though. A hornless Koorivar named Passel Atrubble."

"Never heard of him."

"Well, evidently, the same doesn't hold true for Jeely and Tuort. Atrubble mentioned them to Sing when he tried to recruit her for a special contract. But, she definitely wasn't interested in the target. No matter how high the price!"

"Why? Who's the target?"

"Nobody less than Darth Vader himself."

* * * * *

 **IMPERIAL CITY SPACEPORT  
(THE PRESENT)**

Captain Snoke ran up to the right front seat of the wrecked ambulance and, with his bare right hand, pulled on the door handle with all of his Ragithian might. The latter tore off with relative ease. Thereby gaining the attention of the medical droid inside, as intended.

"You! What's your designation?"

"21-B-19, sir. How may I be of assistance?"

"This is Lord Karn of the Nautolan. And he needs immediate attention for frostbite!"

"Please, put him down in here," the droid replied, indicating the front seat of the ambulance as he exited the vehicle.

The Ragithian mercenary did as instructed, placing Lord Karn flat on his back as gently as possible. He then stood up and turned around. . .

. . .only to get jabbed in the stomach with a hypodermic needle that virtually sprang out of the droid's metallic right arm.

"Uhnnn! W-What. . .?!"

"Essence of murakami orchid mixed with bile of Geonosian brainworm. A slow-acting, but effective, paralytic."

"B-But. . .w-w-why. . .?"

"Three reasons. First of all; I have need of your T-6 Thunderer. Secondly? You've already interfered with this contract enough by killing Mr. Papanoida. And, last, but not least? Passel Atrubble has never forgiven you for depriving the Crimson Novas of that Shi'ido Jedi; Mammon Hoole. So, he offered Master Wurrrda and I half of his share of the Vader bounty, as a bonus, if we killed you, too!"

Wurrrdafookwee slowly opened his one good eye. Rolling over on to his stomach, he saw that it was Passel Atrubble who had broken his fall. But, the self-dehorned Koorivar had paid a heavy price for it. His neck had been broken! A result of the Wookiee's size and mass being increased by the velocity with which Vader had telekinetically hurled him backwards.

"Master Wurrrda! Master Wurrrda! Are you alright, sir?"

21-B-19 came running up as fast as his servo-mechanical legs were capable of moving. The one-eyed Wookiee nodded in response to the question. Then, he snarled, while pointing an interrogative right finger at the Thunderer in the medical droid's right hand.

"Oh! Yes, sir. Secondary contract accomplished. Although, it now looks like we won't be collecting that bonus."

"Rowrrrrr-rowr-rowrr!" Wurrrda replied.

"Yes, sir. I do believe that's true. There's nothing in the client's contract that prohibits our collecting Sergeant Atrubble's share for his next-of-kin. Assuming he has any!"

Whereupon, the one-eyed Wookiee motioned with his left hand for the droid to hand over the T-6.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Nashira of House Renliss was engaged in the greatest fight of her life. As well-trained as she had been, by her Matukai mentor, her Kah'ren sword was constantly being parried by Darth Vader and his confiscated Rykk blades. For every vertical strike towards his head, an interception at the mid-point of an x-shaped crossing of the Rykks. For every attempted horizontal slash at one of his unarmored calves, a counterstrike from an opposing gloved hand. Conversely, every time the Sith Lord went on the offensive, it took all her skills to evade each of his attempts to draw first blood!

And, unlike him, she had no cyborg-implanted respirator to compensate for the heavy breathing so characteristic of gradually-increasing exhaustion.

"My compliments," her opponent suddenly remarked. "You're Force-enhanced training is even more impressive than I initially thought. You're from Haruun Kal. Aren't you? Like the late, unlamented Mace Windu."

She smiled (most unpleasantly): "What was your first clue, genius?"

* * * * *

"Your choice of melee weapon aside," retorted Vader. ". . .your moves these last few minutes have all been reminiscent of those he employed in his attempt to kill Emperor Palpatine at the end of the Clone Wars. Leading me to conclude that your Matukai mentor must have been a failed apprentice of Windu's!"

* * * * *

 **BIMIN III, MAJOOR SECTOR  
(ONE YEAR EARLIER)**

Nashira and the Kah'ren were shopping in the small village market place when they heard the shout.

"Mammon Hoole! Also known as Neo Unfyr of V'shar. I'm Captain Snoke. Special Enforcement Officer; Imperial Security Bureau. You are under arrest. Come with me, quietly. Or face the consequences!"

The duo turned as one, while all the spectators to either side of them went into hiding. Leaving them totally alone with the three-meter tall manhunter.

"Run, Nashira."

"No!"

"Run, I said! And take my rantok sword with you. Give it to Beryl… if and when you find her."

"What about you?"

The metamorphic Matukai looked at the Ragithian Human, who grinned as he pressed a button on a small wand. Instantly revealing it to be a telescoping electrostaff. Similar to those once used by the Separatist Magna-guards of General Grievous! So, the Shi'ido ex-Jedi did the same thing with his wan-shen polearm. After first withdrawing it, faster than normal eyes could perceive from a hidden pocket within the inner folds of his cloak.

"I'll cover your escape. Who knows? I might even get lucky and put a beautiful scar right down the middle of that smugly face of his!"

* * * *

"So what're are you gonna do?" Nashira now demanded. "Resume the fight? Or bore me to death?"

"Neither," replied the Sith Lord. "In point of fact, I intend to. . ."

Instead of finishing that statement right away, Vader actually spun about one hundred eighty-degree counter-clockwise. As he did so, he threw the Rykk blade in his right hand. Using the Force to guide it straight to its target: right between the optic receptors of 21-B-19!

The crackle of electricity from the resulting short circuit distracted Wurrrda. Drawing his attention, even as he howled to the heavens in horrified shock! And, thus, he did not see the incoming twin of that first Rykk blade as it subsequently lodged itself in the right side of his head. Thereby leaving Captain Snoke's appropriated Thunderer free for telekinetic retrieval by Vader. . .who then used it on Nashira.

All in less time than it tragically takes to tell.

* * * * *

 **ONE MONTH LATER**

Armand Isard, Director of Imperial Intelligence, bowed as low as possible when the first of the red-armored Guardsmen came through the door.

"Good morning, Your Excellency."

"There is hardly anything good about it, Director Isard," snapped Emperor Palpatine. "Lord Karn died of cryoban frostbite. And his fellow Nautolans hired mercenaries from the Mantis Syndicate to suppress the Sauvax insurgency once and for all! So, for your sake, I hope you have something that _cannot_ be used against us by rebel propagandists."

The younger man nervously gulped and nodded, pointing to a frame-frozen holograph of Nashira.

"From what we've been able to piece together, this woman had certain contacts within the ISB. Contacts who had secretly informed her that both Capt. Snoke and the Crimson Novas were converging, on Bimin III, in a veritable race for Mammon Hoole. The latter seeing him as just another ex-Jedi they could kill for reward, while the former saw him as a valuable lead to the whereabouts of Beryl Arranda."

"She, however, beat them both. Using her membership in House Renliss as a pretext for locating and warning Hoole. Her misguidedly valiant effort proved futile, of course. As did her own search for Beryl Arranda! Aurra Sing and the other Crimson Novas having eradicated her six months after Hoole's arrest."

"Speaking of which," interrupted the Emperor. "Did Ms. Sing deliver her consignment as promised?"

Isard nodded again; gesturing toward one of his own subordinates who, in turn, ordered a certain protocol droid to carry a certain box over to Isard. The latter then opened the box in order to display its contents to Palpatine.

"One estivating Corellian grass snake, as requested, Your Excellency."

"Splendid!" chortled the erstwhile Senator from Naboo. "This more than makes up for the infiltration of your data network by that Wroonian bounty hunter, Director."

Isard reluctantly bowed again (although, not so low as before). "Thank you, Your Excellency. May I ask, however, why you used someone of Aurra Sing's talents to secure such a commonplace animal?"

"To prevent the circulation of rumors, Director. You see, while this animal might greatly resemble the average ysalamiri, in outward appearance, it is by no means capable of identically generating a bubble of what you might call. . .counter-Force. Thus, by connecting this animal's cryostasis unit to the time bomb in my mechano-throne (in place of the one containing the ysalamiri), I can guarantee my apprentice's detection of it through the Force, just before the bomb finally detonates! Allowing him to save my life, once again."

"No offense meant, Your Excellency. But, isn't that a rather convoluted way to test Lord Vader's loyalty?"

Palpatine actually shrugged. "Perhaps. But, that is not my only reason for such subterfuge. The mysterious person who took out on the contract, in the first place, is still out there! Its terms not yet fulfilled. By hunting down the Heinsnake cultists responsible for the upcoming ' _attempt_ ' on my life, Vader might very well cross paths with a _ninth_ assassin. And, by that means, track down the latter's client for. . .termination with extreme prejudice."

Isard now felt confident enough to smile as he bowed for the third time: "Your wisdom, Excellency, is as unassailable as ever." 

**EPILOGUE**

"Decryption: Complete."

"Holovid Memorandum  
From: Byss Cloning Facility  
To: Emperor's Palace (Imperial City)"

"Subject: DNA Recombination."

"The genetic samples, from the two deceased individuals you sent us, were initially quite difficult to conjoin. But, that has now been remedied. Within a year's time, a hybridized clone prototype will be ready for your inspection. And, if all continues to go well, that clone shall have the size and strength of Captain Snoke. Plus, the Force-related abilities of Ms. Nashira."

 **THE END?**


End file.
